Football imagines

Jesse Lingard - Red Card

The moment Jesse got shown the red card, you jumped to your feet and yelled in anger. It wasn't fair. Jesse had been pushed around by that midfielder all game long and the referee didn't react at all. Now that Jesse was fed up with it and shoved the midfielder away in anger, suddenly the referee was there and gave Jesse a red card for pushing the guy to the ground. The moment you saw the midfielder grab hold of Jesse again, you knew it wouldn't end well for him. Jesse was a relatively calm player, but you saw by the look on his face - which you saw in close up on the television in the VIP lounge- that he'd had enough of it. It had been an intense match already, with yellow cards showed left and right. It was to be expected, of course. It was an important game, deciding who'd end up at the top of the league.

The guys gathered around the referee to try to change his mind but you knew it wouldn't help. The ref had made up his mind. Jesse threw his hands up in the air in disgust and stormed off, cursing and walking straight past Mourinho without acknowledging his trainer. You knew he'd get chewed out by Mourinho later, but you also knew that there was no point in scolding Jesse when he got like this.

You got up from your seat in the VIP area, knowing it was best you talked to Jesse before anybody else tried to. The last thing anybody needed was for him to snap at someone from the staff or -god forbid- Mourinho. When you arrived at the changing room, you saw some staff members were gathered around the door. One of them saw you and recognized you, smiling in relief and beckoning you over.

"He's inside of the changing room. I tried to speak with him but he doesn't want to listen. Could you try to calm him down?" The guy asked you, opening the door of the changing room when you nodded in consent. When you entered, you saw Jesse sitting on a bench, bouncing his leg like he always did when he was ticked off. The moment he saw you, it was like a signal for him to start ranting. He jumped up and started pacing up and down the changing room, in front of the lockers.

"That fucker, I swear, next time I see him I'm going to punch him in the face," You snorted, making Jesse glance at you in annoyance, before continuing, "he threw me to the ground 6 times, Y/N! 6 fucking times, and apparently nobody saw anything. I mean, why the fuck are there four refs if they're not doing their bloody jobs!"

"First of all, you're not going to punch anyone, anywhere. And second, stop walking around so much, you're making me dizzy." You remarked, making him stand still with his back facing you.

"It's just not fucking fair. Who the fuck does that ref think he is? I've been getting shoved around all game long, he's pretending he hasn't seen anything and now, when I do one tiny thing, I get fucking red?!" He rambled, turning around to face and address you, "You know what I'd like to know? How much the ref's getting paid, that's what I'd like to know." Your eyes widen at his words and you shushed him, glancing around and hoping that nobody heard him and that there weren't any recording devices near. If someone heard him say that, he'd be in a lot more trouble than just a red card.

"Okay, babe, I know you're angry, but you need to calm down. If they catch you saying stuff like that..." You said, walking a little bit closer to him but you didn't touch him. Whenever Jesse got angry, he appreciated his personal space and didn't like to be touched, unless he instigated the touching. Of course, the total opposite happened when he got drunk. When you gave him beer, he got possessive and had this constant need to show to everyone else you were taken. When you gave him some tequila, however, he turned mushy and got cuddly. You loved tequila-drunk Jesse.

"I don't care. This game's so important and now the boys are out there with one man less because that one wanker couldn't keep his fucking hands off me and the ref's in cahoots with him. It's like it's a fucking conspiracy." Jesse threw his hands in the air and you couldn't help but smile at your boyfriend. A conspiracy. Sometimes you couldn't believe what came out of that boy's mouth. He was being dramatic, which was a common occurrence, but you loved that about him. Plus, the cursing was kind of turning you on.

"What?!" He snapped when he saw the smile on your face. He looked annoyed, which made you smile even more.

"Nothing."

"No, why are you smiling? What the fuck is so funny about this?" He demanded, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.

"Nothing's funny about this, Jess," You scoffed, "but conspiracy, I mean c'mon. We're not living in some kind of Law and Order episode. Yeah, it sucks that you got a red card. You didn't deserve it, in my opinion, but that doesn't change anything. Now, you need to accept what happened and move on because whether you like it or not, your coach is going to come in here in...," you looked at your watch, "twenty minutes and if he finds you here, still dirty and angry, you're in for it."

"I'll go shower as soon as you tell me why you were smiling." Jesse insisted, and you sighed, knowing that he wouldn't drop the subject.

"Your dramatic arse and your cursing were turning me on." You mumbled, rolling your eyes when Jesse grinned a little but faked a confused expression.

"I'm sorry, what's that?" You sighed in annoyance, knowing full well that he heard what you said but repeating it again, this time louder, because you didn't want to set him off again.

"Don't worry, your bossiness is turning me on as well." Jesse said, coming closer to press a kiss to your lips before walking over to his locker and taking out whatever he needed to take a shower.

"Want to join me?" He asked, laughing and ducking out of the way and into the showers when you grabbed the nearest object and threw it his way, which turned out to be a shoe that just happened to be lying around. Honestly, that boy was something else.